


A coin in the mouth

by ADyingFlower



Series: Noctis Appreciation Week [7]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: (Prompto is unreliable af), (Prompto), Animal Traits, Chronic Illness, Depression, Dubious Morality, Dysfunctional Relationships, Gen, Kidnapping, Loneliness, M/M, Mental Instability, Non-Consensual Cuddling, Obsessive Behavior, Platonic Relationships, Possessive Behavior, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Talks of child death, Unreliable Narrator, Yandere
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-30
Updated: 2017-09-07
Packaged: 2018-12-22 09:49:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11964891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ADyingFlower/pseuds/ADyingFlower
Summary: Prompt: Free choiceFor the kinkmeme: "While escaping from Tenebrae the car Regis and Noctis are in gets into a crash. both are sent flying out and get separated. When Noctis comes to he finds himself in a cave with a strange blonde boy that seems to think a naga is his mother and that he's a daemon too. Noctis thinks that's silly obviously its the boy that saved him so he can't be a daemon." Except that it took a darker turn, but never fear, a happy ending is somewhere in the future.





	1. Of yours

**Author's Note:**

> Everyone deserves a chance at being a yandere...? 
> 
> Let me just duck out of the way of the flying vegetables please...
> 
> http://ffxv-kinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/4113.html?thread=6493969#cmt6493969

“LUNA!” Noctis is shrieking as much as his lungs can handle, thrashing in the seat as if he was seizing right there on the Cadillac Ciel seats, clinging onto the edge of his seat and trying to turn himself around to crane his neck at the catastrophe of what was once the Fenestala Manor. “Daddy please, we have to save Luna!”

Regis doesn’t have the heart to say it’s too late. He just continues driving, attention focused on the road and the occasional stray missile, every part of his body clambering to protect his son whose legs do not work, who can not protect himself and who he would never ask to.

It’s no doubt several of his retainers are dead, and not for the first time he is glad that Clarus and Cor are back in Insomnia, where it's safe. He has to secure both of them a trip back to Insomnia, but he traveled once incognito, he can do it again. He’ll have to dump the car first, maybe invest in a change of clothing, don’t focus on the screaming and blood he’s leaving behind to protect -

He doesn’t see the missile in time, has just enough sense to swerve right out of the way but the wheels are rapidly escaping under him and they’re spinning off the road -

Regis’ head hits the wheel, and he knows no more.

  
  


The King wakes an innumerable amount of time later, the car lodged between two ancient trees and bent at an odd angle.

“Noctis…?” He groans, blinking rapidly as if to rouse him easier. “....Noctis?”

Regis is already scrambling around in his seat, shallow gasps as he looks for his son to either be unconscious of injured beyond speaking.

It’s neither of them.

“Noctis? Noctis! NOCTIS?!”

For the back seat is empty, no sign of Noctis anywhere to be found.

  
  


A boy stops where he heard the racket several miles over, saliva pooling in his mouth when he spotted the carcass of a car smashed between two trees.

The driver is unconscious, but blood is still fresh, the smell already alluring from where it seeps from the few scattered cuts. There’s a smaller prey in the backseat, so the boy walks over to peer into the depths of the seat.

Oh.

Just like him, there is a boy with windswept hair, a large gash traveling up his forehead and streaking his face in crimson, There’s a weirdness to the way he was sitting that suggested a broken spine, but when he tested his fingers against his back, there was nothing out of place (he didn’t think so, anyhow). Even in deep sleep due to pain or shock or maybe both, does the boy curl his cheek into the roof of his hand, openly affectionate.

 _mine keep protect hold capture feed shelter lock away no harm keep mine protect mine -_ The daemons from inside him rumble, and so the decision is made, scooping the boy right out of his seat and carrying him bridal style back into the shadows, disappearing almost the instant he stepped foot into its depths.

  
  


Noctis wakes up on his back in a damp cave with blue eyes watching over him.

“ _Мой_ ,” The boy above him whispered, dragging a hand through his blood soaked hair before sleep dragged him unconscious once more.

  
  


The black haired boy shook in his arms as he carried him gently away from his nest and deeper into the cave system. He couldn’t blame him, he was scared too, once upon a time when he first stumbled here, but that was before he met mother, before the sweet tang of blood and decay, before the warmth of the furs and his mother wrapped around him.

And now, he has someone to share it with.

“And here’s where mother sleeps, it’s warmer than the other rooms, you see?” He chattered on and on, the boy in his arms enraptured with his every word, clinging to his shirt as if he was trying to crawl into his skin.

Mother blinked an eye open at them, not seeming surprised in the least by the shaking boy he’s carrying. He set the other child down before mother and steps back, desperately hoping mother will accept him.

She sniffs him over several times, resting several times around his lower back and around his hair. Mother shook her head out, as if trying to get the scent out of her nostrils, and then slunk back to her sleeping spot.

“ _Smells like death and the Styx._ ” She groaned, curling up once more. “ _Good one for child._ ”

He was beaming so hard his cheeks felt ready to crack in two, already picking up his Styx and leading him back to the nest, ready to keep him there like mother once kept her own fated one.

  
  


“Daddy,” Noctis hiccuped as quietly as he could, curled up as far as he was away from the strange smelling boy as he could. “Daddy I miss you…”

“Who’s daddy?”

Noctis breath caught in his throat. “N-No one.”

Even though the other boy was curled around his back, he could practically feel those eyes narrow at him. “Hmm.”

  
  


‘I wanna go home’ His Styx begged, but that didn’t make sense, because Styx already _was_ home.

‘Let me see daddy just once’ His Styx had pleased with him when he easily hefted him up his armpits when he scrambled away from.

‘I’m scared’ His Styx whispered to nobody but himself, and that someone made him feel the worst.

  
  


Lucis was in grieving.

Black banners were strung from window to window, the usual rambunctious lower districts now on complete silence watch. Bells tolled every hour on the hour, and would until the grieving period of two weeks were over.

As Noctis was still a child, they dug a grave draped in white flowers, white cloths, and a white grave. The coffin was empty, but the Scientia had done what they could to fill it up, from photographs to old favored blankets, even the small fox charm the King had given to his son.

Regis stood at the front of vastly public funeral, as Prince’s could not have even their deaths private, dressed in his usual black raiments. It was something Noctis saw him wear regularly, so why change?

White, white roses, white lilies, white burial sheets. White for innocence. White for _child_.

Regis Lucis Caelum CXIII did not cry, did not let the slightest trace of emotion pass through his face except for his bowed head. It was only after the funeral when he was alone in his bedchambers and he just happened to look over towards the empty space he used to have the cradle when he was too afraid Noctis would pass in the night, hand held over the infant’s chest to calm him from a nightmare and -

He broke.

  
  
  



	2. Of mine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Yandere only increases~

Noctis stops begging to go home somewhere around the third week. 

His back ached distantly from his spot against the cold cavern wall, watching the boy fire into its depths with the stolen gun. 

A quicksilver model, he noted idly, fingers tugging his hair. One of the glaives who regularly guarded him carried around that model.

“I have to protect you,” The boy told him, smile wide and unnerving as he aimed once more. “No one will take you away from me, okay?” 

Noctis thought about arguing, about how he didn’t want to be here, that all he wanted was to see his dad again. But….The last time he had tried to argue, the boy’s face had just gone flat and empty, and he was too scared to keep pushing, that if he kept trying to argue that he would go away like his nursemaid.

So he just kept quiet and nodded, eyes fixed on some distant spot as the gunfire rang throughout the cavern. 

  
  


His Styx was so cute, he often thought. The way he would edge away from his touches, so shy despite the weeks they’ve spent together. The clumsy way he would scoop the soup down until he took charge and hand-fed him. The inability for him to walk anywhere without him, forced on the floor below him and looking up to him with wide, crystal eyes. 

Prompto, his Styx called to him once when he needed help for one reason or the other, and then he had a name. 

  
  


“The place I came from was scary.” Prompto explained to him one day, hand warm from where it was sliding through his hair. Noctis blinked sleepily from his spot on Prompto’s lap, the warmth and fullness from dinner only serving to knock him out harder than usual. “There were men with white coats and needles, and it always hurt so, so much.” 

Noctis reached out then, for no particular reason. His hand cupped Prompto cheek, thumb brushing under his eye. 

“Ah,” Prompto whispered, eyes suspiciously wet as his own hand joined his. “Thank you, for being here. Really. It’s all right now, because I have you and mother, and no more men with white coats.”

  
  


“Why Prompto?” He asked his Styx, running his fingers through the damp hair. His Styx was often sick, he noticed, coughing up one thing or another or fading away with a fever. 

His Styx smiled up at him weakly, but it was different from his other smiles, the ones Prompto managed to drag out by making faces or exaggeratedly tripping. 

“Because,” His Styx whispered, voice harsh as his body was wracked with another cough. “You’re a quicksilver.” 

Prompto didn’t quite get it, but his Styx has given him a name like he had renamed his Styx, so in the end he just grinned happily and snuggled up against his Styx. 

  
  


The King of Lucis is a King who upholds the wall protecting Insomnia from all who dared seek the crystal for their own greed. Regis was a father mourning his own son. 

A typical mourning period for someone of Noctis’ status was a full month. He officially made it two. 

He knew Clarus and Cor were trying their best to hide the mourning period from him, to take on as much responsibility as they could so he could wander around Noctis’ nursery room in a daze, black veils hung over portraits and ladies in waiting scurrying in his peripherals, black heels starch against the white tile. 

Picture books littered his bedroom floor, pages flipped open to random photos of his son’s smiling face. The pages with Aulea were carefully closed with a blank expression, her grin too much like her son’s that his heart ached for loss that never really fully healed. 

  
  


Mother cooed gently at him, wrapping herself around them protectively with a warbling promise of protection. His Styx trembled against his side, actively seeking his touch with each click Mother hissed out. 

Prompto wouldn’t admit it, but the way his Styx shook beneath his touch and the bleariness of his eyes made him cover his smile into his hair. If this was the only time his Styx would be openly affectionate without drawing away afterwards, he would take it happily. 

All he wanted was this, the two of them tucked under Mother’s watchful eye, warm and content, forever.  

“Let’s talk,” Prompto laughed softly, the daemons inside him echoing it hollowly. “I’m too happy to fall asleep!”

His Styx blinked up at him, still tucked into his side, but something in his shoulders loosened. “Talk…?”

Prompto hummed in agreement, leaning back against Mother’s tail and taking his Styx with him. “I wanna hear more about you. Like….What do you like to do? I like those things that make clicking sounds, and then you get yourself printed out.’

“Like a camera?” His Styx brought out his hands and made the familiar shape and clicking motion. Prompto nodded eagerly, and his Styx smiled shyly at him. “I like fishing.” 

Prompto tilted his head, mouthing the word. “Fishing?” 

The other boy made a whirring sound and snapped out his arm in what he guessed was supposed to represent fishing. “To catch fish.” 

His Styx looked happier than Prompto has ever seen him, and he wants to keep that smiling face forever. 

 

Prompto was gone, off to gather ingredients for the food supplies. Noctis just watched the lamp flicker with an unseen breeze inches from his face, blanket bunched around him as he shook. 

It was so cold. 

His hand clenched absently, the feel of one of his dad’s daggers materializing in his hand. He wasn’t supposed to summon them unless it was an emergency, but he needed - something. Something to remind himself of the outside world, of his dad and Luna’s smiling face not burnt away by the smoke in the air. 

Noctis coughed weakly, bringing the dagger closer to his chest even as he felt it disappearing beneath his fingers, energy too low to support it for long. 

He was so cold. 

  
  


Regis’ head snapped up from the photos scattered in his lap, eyes fixed in the distance from where he felt his armiger being summoned. 

“Noctis…” He breathed, sliding to his feet jerkily, hand gripped on the windowsill. “Noctis….!” 

His son was alive. 

  
  


“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” Prompto admitted shyly into his Styx’s neck, hands rubbing up and down his back. Hi Styx cuddled back weakly, arms thrown around his shoulders from where Prompto was slumping into him, pinning him to the cavern wall. 

“We’re gonna stay here together, okay? Just me and you, I’ll keep you here with me forever. I still have a bunch of places to show you, in the summer there’s a lake a couple miles north of here that so much fun to play in, and in the winter Mother will make a nest for us that’s so nice and comfy.” Prompto sighed happily, nuzzling under his hair with a small smile. 

Behind his Styx’s back, well out view, Prompto’s hands involuntarily clenched around the knife he carried with him everywhere at even the thought of someone taking his Styx away. 

He would kill them first. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Noctis spells like the Styx because that the curse of the Caelum line, to almost have one foot in the grave, or, one foot in the river. 
> 
> Мой - Russian for mine
> 
> If anyone can guess what the tittle is referring to gets a cookie!
> 
> The idea of Prompto being so weird with Noctis is that he was, quite literally, raised by daemons. Besides for his moral sense being completely wonkers, he isn't seeing Noctis in a romantic light of even a friendship one. To be blunt, all he's seeing is Noctis as a pet his age, take it out for walks and feed it occasionally.
> 
> So sorry not sorry. He'll get better, I swear


End file.
